Off to Tenerife! I register my kiteboard with Condor. I’ve long since come to terms with the fact that, as a heavy kitesurfer, I have to pay an extra €50 for my sports luggage every time, while the poor golfers are always allowed to take their much heavier luggage for free. But today Condor is serving me a new scoop.
My kiteboard is registered with Condor before I have all my new equipment together. I estimated the weight at 15kg. Condor charges 25 euros per flight for a board bag up to 25kg. My bag is weighed: 17.3kg. For the 2.3kg “overweight” the lady at check-in charges an extra 30 euros. [Update 10.01.10: Condor has refunded…] (more…)
Cologne main station, McDonalds, 3 a.m
The Mac Donalds at Cologne Central Station is as crass as it gets. I sit here for the last two hours waiting for my morning train. At first I think about finishing Feuerstein’s Travelling on the iPod. But that would be a waste. I’m sitting in the middle of a gay zombie film.
There’s a bum sleeping in a mayonnaise stain in the corner. I hope. Opposite, a whole group. Completely strulle they keep tipping penny beer into their cappuccino cups. They have a seventh sense, because the bottle always disappears exactly when an employee comes round the corner, and he often does. (more…)
Bye bye Boa Vista
The time on Boa Vista was good. Travelling with highs and lows, lots of surprises and few expectations. Good people, good food, good music. Our Italian hosts at Residencial A Paz invited us to dinner several times. On the last evening, we get our revenge with a four-course meal.
At the end of my trip to Boa Vista, I get to know some of the inmates of the ****** RIU Karamboa Camp. They pay only slightly more for all-inclusive luxury than I do for ** with breakfast. But I still wouldn’t swap. I have less luxury and more fun. My money is better distributed. (more…)
Kitesurfing on Boa Vista
The wind comes back on the penultimate day. I don’t need any more offshore wind. At lunchtime I get a trip to the RIU Karamboa Hotel in the south of the bay of Sal Rei. The wind here is only about 30 degrees side-offshore. I set up and have a look around.
Another one of those Smurf houses. All-inclusive terrourists, snot-covered banderl wearers and a caipi with beach volleyball. Sun bangers, topless, fuck everything and especially the country and its culture. Off to the bar. A water please, here’s the money. But drinks are only available everywhere with a banderl, nothing else. (more…)
Hiking on Boa Vista
The following days are nice and quiet. Too calm in one respect. After my board-off there were two days of very big waves. Then four days of calm. I quickly make a small business card for my hotel boss. In return, I get his kiteboard for the rest of the holiday.
I go out briefly with the 19 Assault, but even with that I can only keep my height with difficulty. A day later the wind comes back, but: No joke, there’s no more petrol in the whole of Boa Vista and Sal Rei. It will stay that way until Monday. No lifeboat, no kiting.
We go on another tour in the jeep. First stop: the desert of Viana. The wind has dumped the Sahara sand over thousands of kilometres in the middle of Boa Vista. A fine little desert was created over six by three kilometres. We continue through the stony desert to the north beach.
Kitesurfing on the Cape Verde Islands
I was quite disappointed with my first time kitesurfing in Cape Verde. Cape Verde is located in the middle of the Atlantic – not quite in the middle of the Sahara, but still a good distance away. You’d think the wind would be laminar. But it’s not at all. It is extremely gusty, now in November constantly changing between 12 and 28 knots every second from 10 am to 5 pm. Regardless of the coast.
A diving instructor on Estoril beach has a Zodiac for the recue. This is urgently needed: a maximum of 5 kiters per 10 kilometres, wind 75 degrees offshore. There is a small offshore island in the direction of the wind. Otherwise, the next stop is Brazil. (more…)
Boa Vista Social Club on Tour
I let two girls persuade me to go on a guided tour to the most beautiful beach. I don’t like guided tours because they mean that someone knows where to go, the destination is defined and no surprises are to be expected. All three points are elementary contradictions to real travelling.
Travelling means discovering. Travelling means being surprised, positively and negatively. Travelling means: the journey is the destination. Just as this thought crosses my mind, the guide sitting with us in the back of the open pickup apparently no longer knows which of the many dirt tracks leads to the most beautiful beach. I breathe a sigh of relief. (more…)
The sound of Cape Verde
I’m ready for the island
Topless in Ramadan
Sharm el Sheikh is located in the Bermuda Triangle between Las Vegas, the promised land and a ghost town. It’s up to you to decide which corner is closest. 2000 years ago, Moses led his people through the Sinai in search of the Promised Land. Today, two crowds of people chase up Moses’ mountain every morning. There is nothing to find except their own claustrophobia in the middle of the desert.
We wanted to go there ourselves, alone. But Mubarak sells his country as a fairy tale from the Arabian Nights. Today, robbers are called Islamists and wait just behind the last checkpoint for unbelieving individual tourists. As a result, there are hardly any hire cars, I won’t light the thorn bush in front of St Catherine’s Monastery and nobody throws the first stone. (more…)
Kitesurfing school Sharm el Sheikh
It’s not until the third day that I finally get round to kiting in Sharm el Sheikh. There is practically never any wind in Naama Bay, and when there is, there are still kites and Smurfs close together, followed by several boats. To go kitesurfing in Sharm el Sheikh, you drive 20 kilometres north to Nabq. This costs around €1.30 with the blue minibus and takes 20 to 30 minutes.
If you search the internet for kitesurfing Sharm el Sheikh, Google only spits out one page: Colona Watersports, just taken over by kite junkies. They are located on the beach in front of the Regency Plaza in Nabq. I arrive on day one and realise: calm. For the first time in a week. Back to Naama. (more…)
Smurfs on holiday
Sinai. 41 degrees. Perfect hold. Three-weather taffeta. That’s exactly what the saying would have been if a sneaky hairdresser hadn’t quietly and secretly given the lady from the 80s advert an overdose of Gard sometime in the 90s. Heat and strong winds greet us on the steps out of the aeroplane in Sharm el Sheikh. I’m beaming in the middle of the night.
Unfortunately, when we arrive at our hotel in Nama Bay, this joy has already faded. Just 10 kilometres to the south, it’s absolutely calm. We want to take a quick dip in the sea, but the hotel beaches are closed off and the public guards have a massive objection to night swimming. Three o’clock. Off to bed. (more…)
Kitesurfing on Corsica’s east coast
Everyone says kitesurfing on Corsica’s east coast is not possible. There’s never any wind and when there is, it’s too little and when there is enough, it’s completely offshore. None of that is true. I was here for 10 days in July. I was out for several hours on four days. I had a 12 and a 19 kite with me. I only used the latter. But it works.
My kitesurfing spot is about 15 kilometres north of Aleria. A wide sandy beach, no trees, but no bays either. No rocks and plenty of space. The wind forecasts from Windfinder.com are practically never right. There are no fixed times, the wind can come at any time of day and from any direction. (more…)
Freedom to the nudists!
It’s time for another verbal broadside. My target group today: make a nudist. Actually, I have nothing against nudists. I think the principle of live and let live is great, and freedom anyway. The reason for today’s attack is the fact that there are an alarming number of very covered and uptight antibodies among nudists.
The antibodies are characterised by an inspection sticker for mental freedom issued by the Thai TÜV. They are naked out of narrow-mindedness. They despise classic nudist ideas such as “In a healthy body lives a healthy mind.” Maybe that’s why the antibodies are so narrow-minded. (more…)
Corsicana
I realised that I didn’t actually spend a single day – or at least half a day – just lying on the beach on my big trip. There was always a cave to explore, a mountain to climb or a lagoon to explore. As long as there wasn’t enough wind for kiting, of course. It’s different here and it’s good.
Sometimes there is wind, but the forecasts are practically never right. In any case, there is also more wind than expected on the east side of Corsica, mostly side-onshore. I was out briefly on four out of seven days with the 19 Assault. Some fun on the water in the setting sun. Then a game of volleyball and the evening begins with a barbecue, wine and a beach fire. (more…)
Florence in the morning
On the night train to Florence, world travellers from all nations stand in the corridor. They are talking about important things. Everything is important. I feel even older than I already was on my journey. I haven’t really cared about much since I got back. A few things are really important. I try to sleep.
All the way down the burner, the wheels screech in every bend. I don’t fall asleep until long after midnight and then wake up before Florence. The train pulls out of a long tunnel. The sun rises over Florence. I spontaneously decide to skip my train to Livorno and see Florence at dawn instead. (more…)
A good story
I’m going travelling again. For the first time in many months, the web designer is also feeling the effects of the economic crisis. It’s about time, and it feels good. A friend is having a party for no reason in the foothills of the Alps. After a three-hour drive through the worst holiday traffic jam, I arrive in Kaufbeuren in the early evening. The address says it all: Schönblick.
Celebrating for no reason is good. No destination, no plan, no expectation. Everything that is: just happens. What doesn’t happen is not missed. I know no one and expect nothing. Few old rules apply today. But few in return – and perhaps precisely because of that – all the more so. My favourite: good things only happen when you don’t expect them. (more…)
Neusiedl Kite Wars
We are travelling to Lake Neusiedl. To even ask the school whether Sabine can do an advanced kite course, you would actually have to pay a 4 euro beach user fee. There is no course. On to the north-north beach. Great: this year it only costs €5.50. Bugger: the revolving door now even has a guard.
The beach is packed with super-fit trouser-over-neoprene wearers. We set up. When the only good bloke on the beach launches Sabine’s kite, I don’t pay attention. He turned it towards the power zone. Sabine is torn 20 metres through the grass. If her harness hadn’t ripped when we jumped on her, she would have shredded the fence two metres away. (more…)
Louie Austen’s shoes
After a restful night with Georg on the Hohe Warte, I drive into the city centre. It’s raining. All day long. In torrents. I find my way along unknown paths, have no destination but get there. People ask me for directions. I unpack my best Viennese “ey” and say “I don’t know that either, madam.”
In front of the abortion clinic on Fleischmarkt, a lone anti-abortion activist stands in the rain with his poster. Tip to the operators: stupid address! Move to Himmelpfortgasse, then it will work out with the neighbours. The junkies in the underground at Karlsplatz are as crowded as ever, while the Naschmarkt is pleasantly empty in the rain. (more…)
Josefine Baker sings in Vienna
I’m travelling to Vienna. On the way, I find the explanation for the economic crisis. Because of it, the government is currently investing a lot of money in infrastructure measures. There are miles and miles of building sites everywhere, which means I can’t keep my business appointments in Vienna. Lost orders are paving the way through the crisis.
Knowing your way around many places in the world is great. It gives you a feeling of control over something that is becoming increasingly complex and actually uncontrollable. I could almost switch off the sat nav. The Viennese still punish every little mistake with wild honking, and I can find a parking space in front of Georg’s hotel after just three laps around the Praterstern. (more…)
Snowboarding in the Pyrenees
It rains constantly on my last day in Barcelona. I play wet fashion poodle on the upmarket Passeig de Gracia. Gucci, Gabbana, Chanel, Diesel, Zara. Every shop is a welcome shelter from the rain. Whenever the rain gets heavier, I buy something. Nevertheless, I’m soaking wet in the evening.
I get up at five in the morning, pick up the car, load up and drive off towards the Pyrenees. My destination is La Molina. I found the idea of snowboarding in Spain kind of funny. The journey doesn’t bring any joy. There’s no snow at all up to 1300 metres, then it starts to snow lightly. The pistes are white, but I very much doubt whether it’s worth it. (more…)
Wow, it’s cool here
I’m finishing my Spanish course in Barcelona. It was hard to keep up and still do enough travelling. Tonight is my last night. We go into town, almost the whole course, me and Dave. The landlady of the first bar looks like a madam. The Black Sheep is packed. The first signs of the night are starting to appear and nobody knows where they’re going.
The lack of a plan irritates me a little. Our plan was to go out properly one last time in Barcelona. Dancing. You’re supposed to do what you plan, so I urge them to get going. Suddenly there are twice as many of us as before. I head off into the middle of nowhere. Everyone asks for directions at some point, but no one can tell us exactly where it is. So we settle down in a square. (more…)
From the king to the imperial masters
The days turn into nights. My journey is coming to an end. I’m still learning Spanish, but if my classes weren’t from two to six in the afternoon every day, life in Barcelona would be a lot smaller. David has organised tickets for a concert. I don’t like nasty lawyers chasing pictures. That’s why I’m christening the band of the day Kaisermeister.
In a tapas bar right on the Rambla, we eat for 20 minutes, attentively looked after by two gay waiters. The hot service comes at a hefty price. On to the concert. The beer vendors are stacked in three tiers in front of the hall. The service is fine, but we have wine. Inside, good people in rabbit skins are waiting. (more…)
Very quiet at Königsplatz
I go back to Castelldefels with Dave. The road there is still a battlefield scarred by the strongest storm ever. On the beach, the sun is shining on 8-degree water and the air is barely any colder. I’ve caught a heavy cold and realise: on my last trip, my kite stays in the bag.
The next day, Susi from Kaufbeuren sends an email to Helga, a fellow student from the old days. A day later, we’re sitting in a really cosy tapas bar in Barceloneta. I hate seafood. Even gamba heads taste great here. Then it’s off to the Barrio Gotico to a bar that I would like to make my favourite pub if it wasn’t the last few days of a long journey. (more…)
An expensive construction site Gaudi
Dave arrives on the plane from Munich around midday. A quick bite to eat and then back into town. I’m not feeling well, I’ve caught a bad cold. We drive to the Sagrada Familia. It’s just like all the other big things on my travels: bloody pathetically small.
Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia is one big building site. Cranes on the outside, 80% of the inside covered by scaffolding in wonderfully contrasting colours. The remaining 20% is shared by a plethora of vending machines (Snickers, Mars, Raider, no wafers) and the herd of Toruistas. Wow! Great echo. Off to the tower. It only costs an extra €2.50, a real bargain after the €11 entrance fee for a building site. But an hour’s wait is too long for me. (more…)
The Author
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.